Out of the Mouth of Babes Affair
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Napoleon is faced with taking responsibility for his actions and his first reaction is to turn to his parnter for help. Written as a prompt for IKeepGoldFishinmyBra


Stake outs are never my idea of a good time or even necessarily of time well invested. They have their purpose certainly, but for others to pursue, not me.

I had come off from fifteen hours of staring through a pair of binoculars and was just climbing into bed when there was a knock on my door. No, more correctly, a frantic pounding. Before I was halfway there, I knew who was on the other side. I have that sort of connection with my partner. Napoleon only has to be within a five block radius for me to hone in on him or vice versa.

There as something strange about this knock though, which is why I used the peephole UNCLE had installed in the front door. Certainly it **was** my partner on the other side of the door, but it a never-before witnessed state of disarray. I have seen Napoleon unconscious, half crazed with pain, drugged or drunk out of his mind, delirious from hunger or sleep deprivation, but none of those were close to the panic that was on his face.

I opened the door and studied him for a brief second. His tie was loose, the top button on his shirt was undone, his hair had escaped its Brylcreme boundaries – all this I'd seen before, but I never thought I'd see my partner holding a flowered diaper bag…and a baby? I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Napoleon?"

"Illya, thank God you're finally home!" Napoleon pushed past me with a sense of relief.

"Napoleon." This time I tried for a statement instead of a question. The bundle in his arms started squirming and whimpering. Napoleon's eyes took on that wild look steer get just before they plunge off a cliff. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"I came home and found this..." He thrust the bundle towards me. "…on my doorstep, with a note."

Busted came to mind, but I decided to not be cruel...well, too cruel. "This is a baby, Napoleon."

"I know what it is, Illya, I just don't know what you do with it."

"Love it, nurture it, and after eighteen years, send it to university and hope it doesn't come back home to live with you when it graduates."

"This isn't funny, Illya!"

"Napoleon, you're holding a diaper bag with big flowers all over it and a baby in a bunny suit – sorry, this is a little funny." I chuckled at the anger I saw snapping in those brown eyes.

"I don't know what to do with a baby. I've never…never."

"You have a younger sister."

"A year younger, it wasn't like I took care of her or anything."

The closer he got to me with his bundle of joy, the more I could ascertain as to why the baby was fussy. "Napoleon, this baby needs to be changed."

"Into what?"

"I'm serious. You should have a diaper in your diaper bag, didn't you even look?"

"Why would I do that? I don't know what to do with it once I found it."

"Let me have the child." I held my arms out. I thought Napoleon would leap at the opportunity, but he hesitated.

"What do you know about babies?" Finally he handed the baby to me.

"I have five younger brothers and sisters. I started changing diapers when I was six." I carried the baby to the sofa and laid it down. "Does the child have a name?" I started pulling off the fleece outwear.

"According to the note, it's Leon."

"You poor thing, named after your father – there should be a law." The only thing that's harder than undressing a baby is dressing one, but that was a future worry. I got the baby stripped down to its diaper and looked over at my partner. "The diaper, Napoleon, and perhaps some powder?"

"What?"

"Watch the baby." I instructed, putting his hand on the child's stomach. "Just keep him from rolling off the couch. My sister did that and broke her collarbone.." Thankfully, whoever packed this bag took every situation into consideration. My poor Napoleon…he was just so out of his element here. "All right, watch me. The next one is all yours." I folded the diaper into the correct shape – a task not unlike origami, got it close to where it needed to be, and undid the dirty diaper. "You want to keep this flap in place until the very last second."

"Why?" I removed that last protective bit of cloth and little Leon became the Petergof Fountain. "Oh," Napoleon muttered, leaning to one side to avoid being hit.

"Little boys like to urinate when you take their diapers off. I don't know why, nor did the rationale stick to me from my own childhood. All I remember was Vyetka had deadly aim."

We got Leon cleaned up and repackaged and I took a bottle out of the bag. It was already filled, but the contents were cold.

"You need to heat this up and feed him."

"Wouldn't that lead to a vicious cycle of having to change his diaper again?"

"At this age, all they do is eat, sleep, and defecate, I'm afraid."

"Oh my God, I am a dead man…Illya, what are we going to do?"

"We? As Tonto said to the Long Ranger, "What do you mean we, white man?" Napoleon, you are a father; **you** need to accept responsibility for **your** actions. I'm sorry, but the child has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes – definitely not from my loins."

"But you've had experience…and you like children. I don't…that much."

I passed the baby back to him and went to warm up the bottle. "Then you need the experience." With any luck, the child would survive the night. When I returned, Napoleon's paternal nature had gotten the better of him and he sat rocking his son in his arms, talking softly to him. I handed him the bottle and he offered to the baby. It latched on with a vengeance and Napoleon grinned at me.

"He has your technique as well," I muttered, turning and heading back toward my warm, inviting bed.

"Where are you going?" The panic had returned to his voice.

"Napoleon, I just came off a fifteen-hour surveillance and I'm due back in four short hours. I have to get some sleep."

"I'll assign someone else. Here, burp him!"

My least favorite of chores, but if it got me off the stake out, I'd gladly do it. Thankfully, Leon was a burper and happily belched noisily in my ear. I looked around my apartment for some place to park him for the night. Then I remembered my first crib had been a dresser drawer. I pulled out the top drawer and shifted around my underwear and socks until he fit comfortably in the middle of them.

Napoleon had a triumphant look on his face as he walked into the bedroom. "That's all settled."

"I am going to assume Mr. Waverly loved your news."

"Um, no, I can honestly say love wasn't one of the emotions he expressed."

"His response?"

"Deal with it."

"That's harsh, even for him." In the meantime, I'd made it as far as sitting on the edge of my bed and could hear my pillow whispering my name.

"What are you doing?"

"I still need to sleep, Napoleon. I've only had six hours in the last three days. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a living example of Newton's Cradle or the embodiment of perpetual motion. Please…"

He looked from Leon, happily snoring away among my socks to my bed and back. "Where do I sleep?"

"You have a choice, the couch or in here with us. Your preference."

He was stripped and in bed before I was. He'd already experience the torture that was my couch. Sleep on that one night and even a bathtub looked good. "Thanks, Illya, for everything. I owe you."

"You certainly do." I was expecting a huge 'get out of jail free' card out of this. If he said anything after that, I was unaware of it.

Until what seemed like ten seconds later when my peaceful sleep was interrupted by a piercing and demanding cry.

"Napoleon, your son wants you." I kicked him, none too gently.

"Haven't actually proven it's my son, yet."

"With those lungs, trust me, he's yours. It's time for you to solo, Solo."

He wasn't happy, but he dealt with it, making sure he woke me when he came back to bed. "Ingrate," I muttered.

"What do I have to be grateful for?"

"A generous and understanding partner who didn't toss you out on your ear the moment he opened the door and saw you standing there." That was long enough for me and I went back out.

When I surfaced twelve hours later, I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but it wasn't an empty apartment. There was a hastily scratched note on the floor by the front door, saying that Napoleon had been called into HQ. It struck me as odd that he didn't wake me, but no matter.

I'd had sleep, I felt relatively good, physically, and, most important, I was alone. Happily and blissfully alone. Coffee, a shower and a half a box of cereal and life was starting to look just this side of rosy to me.

I was just contemplating what to wear…should I wear my black suit or my black suit? Decisions, decisions…when there was a familiar knocking on my door.

"Ah the Lone Ranger returns," I said out loud, opening the door. No surprise, Napoleon was there, but he was…unencumbered. "Napoleon, where is the child?"

"His mother took him back."

"And would I know said mother?"

"Never will you know said mother." Napoleon pushed past me and plopped down on my couch. That usually wasn't his style. "She said she wanted to teach me a lesson in responsibility."

"And you already miss him. Napoleon, if you want to be a part of your child's life, you do have that right."

"No, it's not that. What kind of life could I offer a kid?"

"Perhaps not now, but too soon we will be pulled from the field and then…who knows?" I sat down beside him and smiled. It wasn't just women who fought biological clocks, I often yearned for a normal life with a wife and children, but instead I had a grumpy partner and UNCLE.

And for today, that was fine.


End file.
